New To The Family
by MusicallyDivine
Summary: Jessica is saved from her father by none other than the infamous Winchesters. When she wakes in the hospital and finds that they want to adopt her, her life changes forever the moment she agrees. Her strength is put to the test as she discovers the Winchesters' real occupation and what really prompted her new friends to save her.
1. Chapter 1

-Then-  
"Dean!" I heard a voice yell.

"Yeah, Sam?" Another called, and I heard footsteps cross the room in between the pain and darkness of semi-conciousness.

"C'mere! She's hurt!" A light touch to my face caused a low moan to erupt from my throat. I would've cried, but I didn't think any tears would be able to  
sqeeze out of my eyes, which were swollen shut. More pain racked my broken body as I was picked up.

"Shit, she looks bad. We need to get her to a hospital. They'll take care of her from there." The second voice said, and I tried to speak.

"N-no. Please, no." Is what I tried to say, but it really just sounded like a series of croaks and moans. The two anonymous men must've understood, because  
the one holding me shifted, and it's all I could do not to cry out.

"Dean, she's scared to death. We can't just leave her in a hospital with no answers. We can take her there, but we're not leaving her." The man said,  
and I heard "Dean" sigh. I heard the clank of metal, and then the scuff of boots on wood.

"Fine. But we're not staying long, we probably won't have to, because the child protective services will be all over this." He said, and then the  
man holding me started to walk too. All of a sudden, cold air hit me from all angles and I gasped lightly, the cold mixing with the pain of my external wounds and I knew I was going to black out. I was already fading into the back of my mind, and the footsteps I tried so hard to focus on were turning into soft echos. When I felt the warmth of the man escape me, I found the feeling of something under me, like a coushion.

"Thank you," I moaned quietly as the creak of a door and a hum of a car lulled me into a bittersweet blackness.

-Now-

Waking up with a concuscion is not fun. You feel like a truck ran over your head and crushed it a million times, going back and forth, back and forth until you've bled out onto the concrete. Not to mention the other cuts and briuses I have aquired. When I regain my hearing, I hear the sharp, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside the crisp hospital bed I'm laying in. I then regain my feeling, and I wiggle my fingers over the scratchy fabric of the sheets. I roll my head to the side, and regret that descision as I moan loudly. I try opening my eyes, but slowly, so I don't blind myself. I open them to tiny slits, letting the harsh white light into my vision, and closing them to try again. I do this until I open them all the way, well, as far as I can with two black eyes. Wait, how did I even get them? What do I remember? I roll my head over towards the door, and a man in the seat next to my bed. I have never seen him before in my life. He looks at me with hazel eyes. He has long hair, just brushing his broad shoulders, and is wearing a red plaid shirt. "You're awake," he says. He sounds familiar, like someone from a dream. "How are you doing?" I look at him in confusion, but give a small nod in response trying to spare myself from the headache.

"I'm doing okay, I guess. I'm sorry, but do I know you?" I say in a husky voice, deep and nearly unfamiliar to my usual sound. The man gets a look of realization, and then explains.

"I'm Sam. You don't know me, but you were in an accident, and my brother and me were there to help you out." He says, and I do remember small fragments. My dad was somehow involved. There were these two men there. There was a lot of blood. Just then, another man walks in, the sleeves on his button up rolled to his elbows and he's holding a plate with a piece of cherry pie on it.

"Hey, Sammy. They have pie here." He says, and smiles as he stuffs a forkful into his mouth. He doesn't notice me at first, but Sam kind of gestures over to me, and he looks over, his smile dropping a bit.

"You're awake," He says.

"Yeah. How long have I been out?"

"Three days, it was a bit touch-and-go for a while, but you lived. You'll be okay." Sam says, and I sigh, relieved. "This is my brother, Dean." He gestures to the pie eating man, and I give him a small smile. He smirks back with a full mouth. He crosses the room to the chair next to Sam's, and takes another bite of pie.

"I remember my dad... What happened to him?" I ask, and Sam and Dean exchange a look of worry.

"Uh... He..." Dean starts.

"He got into some trouble. He was hurting you, and we heard you as we were driving by. We came in and called the police. We had to use some self defense, he was really strong. He got-uh-hurt in the process. I don't think you'll see him anymore. I'm sorry..." Sam drifted off, and I filled in my name for him.

"Jess, my name is Jess." I saw a flicker of something on Sam's face, but ignored it. I exhaled as I tried to remember. My father... he was a troubled man. It doesn't surprise me he did something to harm me. He had been rough with me for a while, but nothing too bad. A hard slap on the arm, a rough grip on the wrist, a bit of a push into the wall, but nothing as serious as this. He must've been drunk or something. He gets violent when he's drunk. Only once, when he was under the influence, did he really hurt me. He struck me on the face, but didn't remember it. When he woke up, I said I tripped on my feet and hit my face on the chair in the kitchen. He believed me. When he's sober, he's a great man, but when he's drunk... It's unpredictable. "What's going to happen to me?" I ask them, and they shrug a bit.

"I'm not sure how all of this works. Do you have any relatives?" Dean asks, and I shake my head. My dad was an only child, and his parents died when I was a baby. My mom left us when I was three, and she never even spoke about her family, at least, that's what my dad said. I never really asked again after that, purely because I didn't care. We had a good thing going between the two of us. We stayed out of each other's crap, but we did care. "Well, then I really don't know what's gonna happen."

We sit in silence for a while, and my curiosity gets the better of me. "How bad does my face look?"

"What?" Sam asks.

"My face, how bad does it look?" For a moment, Sam studies my face, his eyes grazing my appearance. He sighs and furrows his brows.

"Do you want the truth or the lie?"

"Truth."

After a moment, he says, "A little worse for wear." He gives me a sympathetic smile, and I smile back. A nurse walks in then, and all of our heads turn in her direction.

"You're awake! That's great. Do you have a headache? Nuasea? Are these your uncles?" She looks over to Sam and Dean, who shake their heads.

"No, we were just the ones who found her." Dean explains.

"Oh, well sorry. The hospital has been trying to track down a relative. If we can't, CPS will have to get involved..." She sighs, pausing her work. She looks to me with a sad smile. "We're trying though. I promise." She quickly finishes with her work and exits the room. She pops her head back in for a moment. "You should get some rest, it'll help." When she leaves, I look at my arms. I see finger print briuses on my arms, and a white bandage going across my wrist.

"What is that?" I ask, pointing to the bandage. Dean takes my right wrist lightly in his rough hand and rubs his thumb across the bandage.

"Your dad... We think he did that. We think he cut you there. It was bleeding a lot, but we stopped it before anything too drastic happened." he says, placing my hand back onto the sheets.

"When will I get to go home? Or... Get out of here, at least?" I ask, looking down at my hands. "I need to get back to school. I'm graduating middle school soon. I have a ceremony I need to get to, I need to practice for my talent show." I say, getting increasingly louder and more panicked. I've never really been fond of hospitals... The white walls and harsh lights have always remind me of some of those weird horror movies. Sam moves closer to me and takes my clenched hand.

"Shh, it's alright. You need to calm down, your pulse is racing." He's right, the heart monitor next to my bed is beeping like crazy. I look at him, and he helps me take a few deep breaths.

"I want my dad." I say, on the verge of tears. I need to get out of here. I don't care what he's done. He's my dad and he loves me. And I love him.

"That... That isn't possible, Jessica." Dean says in a soft voice.

"Why?! I don't care about what he did! I want my dad!" I yell, my voice thick with tears. My breath is shaky and I feel a warm tear slip out of my eye and down my cheek.

"He... He's-" Dean begins, but stops. Two things come to mind. He was either arrested or killed. I immeadiately assume the latter. What can I say, I'm, a pessimmist.

"He's dead, isn't he? That 'self defense' you had to use... He's dead." They both sigh. Oh my god. They killed him, and they probably won't even be charged for it, since it was necessary. They were only trying to protect me.

Somehow, I always thought when my dad died, I would never recover. I would just shut myself in my room without coming out until I died of dehydration, or hunger... But now, I'm not so sure if I'll even be effected as much as I thought I would. He was my only family but we weren't close at all. The relationship between us was, if anything, purely business. We'd go to each other if we needed each other. We talked about grades if I wasnt doing so well, or I was excelling. He would help me, but in a subtle way, and we never really had any quality time together. It really was, strictly business with him. My friends are the ones I would always count on in emotional endeavors, and they never knew about the abuse and alcoloism my father had. That's why my mother left him, the alcohol... But she didn't think to take me with her for a second. She was young, and had a life ahead of her. She couldn't even drink when she had me. She wanted adventure, and a good time before she settled down, which she obviously did not have with me and my dad. In truth, I don't blame her. I just wish I had been a little older, as to not be a burden, but a companion in her endeavors. But anyways, it's not like a really needed a mom. My friends's families are my families. I was even part of their Christmases and their relatives birthdays and other holidays. It was nice. It is nice. What'll happen to me when I'm out of here? Will my friends still be my friends? Maybe one of their parents will adopt me.

"Jess!" Dean snaps me out of my trance. I turn my head towards him and Sam, and worry is evident on their faces. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asks.

I nod. "Of course, why wouldn't I?" I reply, and he gestures to his face.

"You're crying..." Sam explains. I wipe my tears away quickly while I listen to him continue. "Listen, Jessica, we're really sorry about what we did to your dad. It was an accident, I swear. We just wanted to keep you safe, ya know?" I nod. Of course I know. In the past few months, dad had been drinking increasingly more each day. He had been coming home drunk, driving to work under the influence, and always reeked of vodka or tequila or another one of his poisons. It was awful, because even though he was slower, he was more violent. I was barely ever safe at home. If I got home before he did, I grabbed food and drinks baracaded myself in my room, because that was the safest place in my house. He never came in there when he was drunk, because I was never in his way. In the morning, I'd clean up his mess, lay clothes out at the foot of his bed, and get ready for school. Then I'd leave for the bus before he even woke up. If I got home after he did, things would get messy. It was those days I'd have to think up a lie for the following day at school, and my choices were narrowing down.

"It's okay. This has been happening more over the past few months, so... I guess I'm kind of, in a sick, twisted way, glad it's over." I try to reassure myself. In some ways, it's true, but in others, I was just a sad little girl that lost her father.

"Are you sure?" Sam asks.

"I'm sure for now. We'll see how this lays out." I say. "What happened though, ya know, to my dad?" I inquire. Dean lets out a deep breath. I can tell he didn't want me to ask this question.

"Um," Sam starts, looking cautiously over at Dean. "We heard you screaming, so we went up to the door and tried getting in. When we found the door was locked, we busted it down and started searching for you. When we found you, your dad was hovering over you, hurting you." I can tell he was trying to be sensitive. I could see in his eyes that he was trying to find the right words to say, as to not upset me. He clears his throat and continues. "We ran over and pulled him off of you, and we tried to get him to stop. He kept trying to get to you, but I pushed him back and he stumbled and fell. He hit his head on the edge of the countertop and collapsed. There was a lot of..." He trails off. I think I know what it was though. _There was a lot of blood._ Before he can finish, I stop him.

"It's okay. I know what you mean." I say. They both look at me with guilt in their eyes. They don't need to be guilty though. They did the right thing. It was just an accident. We sit in an awkward silence for a few moments, and then the door comes open and I see my best friend, Elizabeth.

"Oh my god, Jessica! Are you okay, what happened?" She asks me as she comes over to my side, ignoring the two men in the chairs beside the bed.

"I'm alright, I promise. My dad just got into some trouble." I say. It only takes her a moment to realize.

"Did he do this?! I swear to god, I will kill him!" She says furiously, and I swallow hard, thinking that her proposition has aready been fufilled.

"That's the thing, Elizabeth..." I start, but I trail off. The mood in the room instantly darkens. I can see on her face that she knows what she said, and what I mean. She looks horror stricken, and immediately apologises.

"Oh my god... I'm sorry, I..." She lets the sentence fade off, not knowing what to say, which is a very rare thing for Elizabeth. She always knows what to say, and her not knowing makes me very nervous and anxious. I look over to Sam and Dean.

"Can we have a minute?" I ask them, on the verge of tears. My voice breaks on the last word, making me embarrassed with how I'm acting. But why shouldn't I be allowed to cry? My dad is dead, he beat me to a pulp, until there was barely any of me left. Elizabeth finally looks over to the two men, but doesn't say anything. They silently get up and leave, and as soon as the door closes she practically jumps onto the bad to hug me.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asks as a hot tear runs down my cheek. She notices I'm crying, and she knows I don't want to speak, so she talks instead.  
"The guy with the long hair is really hot." She says, and I give a strangled laugh. I know I can always count on Elizabeth to try and talk about boys in any situation.  
"No, seriously Jessica, he is really hot." This helps a bit, and I nod.

"Yeah, he kind of is." I giggle. We both laugh. When I look into her eyes, she's looking back at me, with pity, of course. I divert my gaze from her, not wanting to feel the unwanted emotion. "I want to go home." I say after a moment. My voice is soft, barely audible for even my ears. Elizabeth looks down at me, and cuddles closer to me. I hug her back, welcoming the extra warmth that radiates from her body.

"You can come live with me. Mom and Jay can adopt you and we can be sisters." She says with her cheek against the top of my head. I smile at the thought. Elizabeth and I are practically sisters already. I spend almost all of my spare time at her house anyways, so why not make it official?

"I'd like that." I say. We both sit in silence, the throbbing in my head has stopped for the most part, probably because of Elizabeth, she always makes my pain go away. She has that effect of people she loves. She just makes them feel better and stronger. I'm really lucky to have her.

A knock on the door is what breaks the comfortable silence, and the two men walk back in. "Uh, 'scuse us. We need to talk to Jess." Sam says. Elizabeth takes her time getting out of the room, looking back at me with a broken smile as often as she can without hitting anything. Soon though, she's out the door and it shuts with a click behind her. "We just talked to a CPS agent, and she says that finding a relative of some kind is really slim. So, we have offered to look after you. She says that was okay, but you need to agree. And she'd like to talk to you. You feeling up to it?" he says. I nod at them. They look at each other, then at me, then they cross the room to the door and open it. A lady with an obviously fake smile and a briefcase walks in, the clack of her heels sounding harshly against the tile floor. She sits in the chair closest to my head.

"Hello, Jessica. My name is Jacquline. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?" She cuts straight to the point. Of course, I nod. I can already tell I don't like this woman very much. It already feels like she's treating me like a child. "Okie dokie then." She says, and opens her briefcase, full of procedural questions. "What's the last thing you remember from the attack?" She asks. I'm taken aback by this question. She has no trouble telling it like it is, and it annoys me. Has she no sympathy for a girl who lost her father and her dignity?

I, of course, answer the question as politely as I can. "Uh, let's see... I remember being flung back into a wall and then it goes black. Then I remember being carried out to a car. Those men's voices telling me it's okay or something. Then it goes black again and I wake up." She jots all of these notes down, and carries on to the next question.

She asks, "Has your dad hurt you before?"

"Yes." I answer plainly.

"Would you care to elaborate?" She asks with a tone of annoyance, as if I wasn't just asked a question filled with trauma and pain.

"Uh... sure. He would push me sometimes and grab my arm really tightly. It was nothing too major." I leave out the time he hit me. I don't want my father more criminalized than he already is.

"Alright," She starts, looking up from her notes. "do you feel safe now? Do you feel a certain hostility towards men? Are you frightened of them?"

"No. I'm fine. I'm not afraid of men. I've just learned to accept that they're not all good. My father was a great man, just not good." I tell her and for the first time, I believe it. I always thought of my dad as the best dad in the world, like every daughter thinks of her dad as. I always thought of my dad as a hero until recently. But now I see the truth. But, that's not going to make me stop believing in the world." I explain. She nods slowly as she writes something on her board. She then turns her attention back to me.

"Okay, could you tell me, on a scale of one to ten, one being depressed and ten being content, where is your emotional state?" She asks me, and I stare blankly at her for a moment. How could I be "content" in a time like this? Is she crazy?

"Um," I begin, looking down at my bandaged hands. "I guess I feel about a four?" It comes out as a question.

"Is this how you truly feel? It's okay to be depressed." She says, with what I think is mock concern lacing her sing-songy voice. And for a moment, I consider her question. Is this how I really feel? Would I be considered a bad daughter if I didn't feel worse than I do?

"Yes, that's how I truly feel." Well, I suppose it's my father's fault for not making me feel any differently than I do. Jacquline notes what I say and closes her notebook with a sharp motion and places it back into her briefcase with grace.

"Alright then, I suppose we're finished then. The plan is that you'll stay here for another night or so, to see if the authorities can contact a relative, but chances are, you're going with these men. That is, if they pass a thurough background check and home examination." She explains, and I nod. Although I'm worried slightly about going with two men I have no relations with, I feel thankful that my rescuers are willing to take me. She takes her briefcase in her hand and gets up from the chair, smoothing out her perfectly pleated work pants and cashmere sweater vest before nodding curtly and heading towards the door. She lingers in the doorway a moment, and looks back at me.

"Everything will be alright, Jessica."

Yeah... Sure it will.


	2. Chapter 2

p data-p-id="e2e21fbb39e90e944fb14160af743872"When I get discharged from the hospital, three days later, I have my arm in a sling and a limp. The doctor said that the limp should go away, and that they'll transfer all of my paperwork to the hospital closest to Sam and Dean's house. In Kansas. Half a country away from my home in Kentucky. I was so broken up about leaving Elizabeth I almost said I didn't want to go with them, I was about to lie. I changed my mind, yes, I am afraid of men. They'll hurt me too if I go with them. But, the thought of staying in the same town so tainted with horrendous memories of a broken childhood and home, I didn't say anything except a goodbye to Elizabeth. When Sam, Dean, and I reached their car, I stared on in awe. It was beautiful, one of the most beautiful cars I had ever seen. And while I don't know anything about the mechanics, I can tell if a car is a good one when I see it. Dean opens the back seat for me, and I climb in clumsily as I slide the backpack off of my back and stick my injured leg in simultaneously. I get comfortable on the bench seat and buckle up, looking around and familiarising myself with the car, as it seemed that I'd be in here a lot in the future. As I looked around, I noticed the ashtray sitting next to me was stuffed with little green army men, at least two decades old. I examined the jagged S.W. and D.W. carved into the wood of the door as well, wondering how old they were when they made this car theirs./p  
p data-p-id="591c9765dda98cbc59b4c89490a56127""Jess? We're gonna head back to your house to pack up the rest of your things. You can bring some clothes and stuff, and we'll get the rest of it soon." Dean says as we make our way down the familiar streets of my hometown. We finally pull into the cul-de-sac where my house remains, the yellow police tape from the investigation still intact. We pull into the driveway, and Dean cuts the ignition. Both Sam and Dean get out of the car and start walking towards the building, but I'm frozen in place for a moment. I jump when I hear my door open, sucking in a breath and jerking my injured arm in a reflexive defense maneuver. I wince at the pain and look at the door, and see it's only Sam./p  
p data-p-id="6765d521f6e0a44f9da3109f1ad9ba5d""You okay?" He asks, leaning in slightly as if to examine my self-inflicted pain. I nod quickly and look down. I can hear him sigh and lean on the door, making it groan slightly at the weight. "So, are you coming?" He asks. I think a moment, looking everywhere but the house or Sam. I finally look back at him./p  
p data-p-id="d79f0d84694c5131c532e036dd39f66a""Yeah... Just give me a minute. I need to prepare myself mentally." I explain. He nods in understanding./p  
p data-p-id="9d4b69b02a7fdfb0640efd6df2b70d0d""Well, if you need me, or Dean, just say so." He says before turning and walking into the house, lingering in the doorway a moment to look back at me. emYou have to do it at one point, Jessica. Just get it over with. /emI take a deep breath and get out of the car, letting my newfound courage drive me into the house. I stop walking when I reach the foyer of the house, just a few feet from the doorstep. I look around, taking in the darkness of the livingroom I had lounged in countless times. The stairs I ran up to stay out of the way of my rampaging father. I take a step further into the house, my uninjured arm just gracing the surface of the faded polish of the stair banister./p  
p data-p-id="bbb286547ea5bbe1c379f804600bb4c4""Hey." Dean says from the top of the stairs, emerging me from my memories. I look up at him. "Are you okay?" He asks. I nod and head towards him, taking each step slowly as to not get tripped up on the stairs and fall. When I reach the top, Dean makes room for me and he holds my arm to steady me, even though I was perfectly balanced. I think of all the times my dad grabbed my arm, and with Dean, it's so different. With him, I can tell it's a hold of support, of a genuine concern my father rarely showed towards me. I look at him in appreciation and look back towards the hallway, walking down it to my room. The door is shut, as it always is, and I turn he tarnished gold painted knob and push it open, revealing a mess of dirty laundry strewn across the floor and an unmade bed. The walls I had stared at so many nights, wondering if my father had gone to bed yet so I could go down and make myself some food. Or if he had at least fallen asleep on the couch, the bottle of vodka dripping onto the floor as it fell out of his hand. The posters of my favorite bands are posted along the pastel green walls, Panic! At The Disco, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Twenty One Pilots, Scorpion, Tove Lo, Guns 'n' Roses... All of the good stuff. I walk further into my room and immediately start looking through the drawers, pulling out my t-shirts and flannels and my jeans and my sweaters. I set them all on my bed and go to my closet to grab a duffel bag. I pack everything in and go back to get socks and underwear, stuffing them into the bag as well. I then root through my book drawers and stuff all of the books that will fit into the rest of the bag. I zip it up and sigh. I grab another backpack and fill it with a few assorted essentials, my toothbrush, brush, my pillow, my phone charger, and some more books, along with a few posters I carefully took off of the wall and folded. I zip that up as well and set it next to the duffel bag. Dean comes across the dirty floor and grabs both bags, even though I say I can carry them myself. "Jess, you have a broken wrist and a limp. Let me get it." I sigh in defeat and let him carry those, but I carry the backpack I already had with me./p  
p data-p-id="a3d76094f16a6548ffca569090df3183"Sam comes into the room and asks if I'm ready. I nod, but remember something I want to get before I leave this place behind, at least for a while. I cross the hall into my dad's room and look under his bed, in a shoebox filled with yellowed pictures of my mom and his wedding. I pick up a picture I had looked at a million times before, he and mom, smiling at each other as the camera closes in on their perpetually young faces, white flecks of snow covering their eyelashes and hair from their winter white wedding. I hold it close, then I fold it very carefully and put it into my pocket. This is the last piece of them I have. I look towards Sam and Dean, who are standing in the doorway, staring at me, before getting back up and announcing that I'm ready. Sam and Dean escort me out of the house, and I take one last look behind me before I get into the car with my bags. Driving away, Dean turns the radio on, The Eagle's "Hotel California" plays through the speakers, and I watch as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, quietly humming to the song. Sam turns back to me from his seat./p  
p data-p-id="3d9396e7d427aecd091a234cef50a625""You hungry? We can stop for lunch before we hit the road." He asks./p  
p data-p-id="b3fe8e256a293e4f528075023b8921c0""Yeah, I'm starving. Wanna grab a burger?" Dean replies, looking in the rearview mirror to see my face./p  
p data-p-id="fdfe4b4fe6531a25684912b84f79adfa""That sounds delicious. I know a really great place to get one. The Twig and Leaf. It's a really cute little diner. And the food is great. I'll give you directions." I say, and I guide Dean down the streets until we reach the diner. We get out and go in, picking a booth in the corner. I squeeze in next to Dean and soon after, a waitress, Kayla, comes to take our order. Dean and I order burgers, Sam has a salad. Our food comes soon after, as we are the only people in the restaurant, and we start eating. I have a little trouble eating with one hand, but I manage as I stuff the burger into my face. A memory comes to mind as I reminisce over the many times I've been here. "I remember this one time," I remember, laughing a bit. Dean and Sam look up from their food to listen. "Me and my dad came here, and we just got a thing of fries for us to share. I couldn't get the ketchup to come out of the thingy, so my dad took it and jerked it so it would go to the front, and when he did, it flung out of the bottle and hit me in the face. We laughed about it for hours." I say, picking up a fry and dipping it in my ketchup pool before popping it into my mouth. Sam and Dean both give small smiles at the funny memory, and quietly go back to their food. The smile I wear slowly disappears into a sad, melancholy look. It was years ago, when everything was just bordering normal. Now I'm sitting here, two seats away from where I was back then, and everything is so different now. The waitress comes back and asks if we'd like anything else./p  
p data-p-id="610b5d4eeecbf6c276954e82805c2392""Pie." Dean says immediately. He turns his attention to me for a moment. "You want some, kid?" I just politely shake my head. When the waitress goes back to get the pie for Dean, Sam watches something behind us for a moment. His eyes go from confused to panic in a split second./p  
p data-p-id="c23dfca34b3ce47934c0b6ec498356f8""What's wrong, Sam?" I ask him./p  
p data-p-id="516de0ce7d1088024ff5c3f4e6a27990""Jessica, go out to the car. Now." He says with a tone of warning./p  
p data-p-id="ec8d86d10a11c3b797e17cf3a088cc63""Why?" I ask, not satisfied with the plain statement. I want to know what's going on./p  
p data-p-id="b00cb927f00cff18dc5da05a3bfd47bf""Just do it. Don't ask questions. We'll be there in a few minutes. Go." He says sternly, and I look at Dean beside me, wondering if he would agree. He nods his head slightly, beckoning me to go out to the car, his eyes gone a dark forest green from their usual candy apple hue. I quietly scoot out of the seat and start walking toward the door. I look behind me before I walk out, and Dean is watching me intently as Sam keeps staring toward the back. I let the door fall behind me as I walk toward the Impala, Baby, as Dean calls her, and hear a ruckus being made inside. I look back toward the door, and I see Dean struggling with the waitress, but there's one difference from her appearance I see, horrifying me. Her eyes are jet black./p  
p data-p-id="09ccedbfeeb9457f2af7047e174a9629"I stare on for a moment before realizing that I need to get the hell out of there. I turn on my heel and hobble as fast as I can toward the Impala, hoping that that will be enough to keep the... the... emthing /emfrom coming to get me too. As I swing the door open to the car, I feel a pair of arms strap themselves around my waist, and I let out a shriek. I flail madly as I try to escape my assailant, trying to get a kick or punch in anywhere. The man holding me is much too strong though, and he easily lifts me and carries me back toward the diner. No one is around to hear me scream, but even so, I let them pour out of my mouth like my favorite song on replay. When I feel the arms around me loosen, I don't waste time in trying to run away, not caring about the limp plaguing my gait. When I stumble and fall, I see Sam, breathing heavily, holding a jagged knife in his hand. The man trying to kidnap me laying dead at his feet. But there's one thing that seems very odd. His eyes flashing brightly for a moment before going back to normal. I look up at Sam, horrified. He looks down at me, and the instant his eyes meet mine, his expression softens. He takes a step toward me as he lowers the knife, but I can't help scooting away from him a bit. I just watched him kill a man, wait, not a man, a emthing. /emA freak of nature. I don't notice I'm crying until I let out a small sob, and Sam comes and scoops me up, bringing me close to him. I breathe in his scent, blood and soap and cheap cologne. He carries me bridal style to the car, and ever so gently places me into the back seat./p  
p data-p-id="7d734fa4dbb66501a7f885b0331a7cb3"br /"We'll explain soon. Please, just... Don't be afraid. We'd never, emever /em hurt you. You have to believe me." He says. I don't know weather it's the look in his eyes on par with that of a kicked puppy, or my own state of mind, but I believe him. Pretty soon, Dean comes out to the car, and he and Sam talk for a minute, Dean yelling and carrying on while Sam tries to get him to calm down. They both gesture to me a few times, and after a moment of silence staring at each other, they get into the car. Dean still seems pissed off, but he's seething in silence, I suppose. When he starts the car, the silence is so thick you could cut through it with a knife. The music helps break it up a bit, calming us all down. I decide to start conversation after about an hour./p  
p data-p-id="e3a42a2dc9c2cd3a5dc67f30edf7e196"br /"Why didn't you call the police? Those people... they deserve to be punished, and you saved me, again. I think that they should know, or something..." I trail off because my thoughts are so muddled and jumbled with fear and extra emotion. Sam looks back at me with a sad, but stern look./p  
p data-p-id="b4b34cb3b3e6a419dd1d91e39ab5bf68"br /"We can't, Jessica. Didn't you see their eyes? Jessica, what we're about to tell you, you need to not be afraid. You, of all people, should be able to be strong. Do you understand?" He asks. I don't answer for a moment, but nod, realizing the weight of the situation. "Okay," Sam begins. "Jessica, all of your nightmares... Well, almost all of them, are real. Those things back there, they weren't human. Well, I guess they were once, but now, they're... Demons." My suspicions confirmed, I lean in closer, trying not to scream in fear. I guess I knew what they were the minute I saw their eyes. "And," Sam says, "They were after you."/p 


End file.
